


how to say i love you

by dotpyenji



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotpyenji/pseuds/dotpyenji
Summary: fritz has something to say to vixel. but he needs to practice, first.
Relationships: Fritz/Vixel (Dragalia Lost)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	how to say i love you

“I love you.”

Fritz scrunched up his nose as soon as the words had left his mouth. It was short, direct—but far too simple. Not poetic enough. Three common words that even a child could babble—what impact would that make?

He pouted, alone in his room, to nobody in particular.

“Hey, we’ve known each other for a while, and…”

The sentence died on his lips before it could finish; it wasn’t engaging enough. There had to be a  _ hook _ , some kind of zing to draw in his audience—Vixel, in this case.

Fritz sighed, uneasiness churning in his stomach. He ran a hand through his hair, half-expecting it to come out in clumps from stress, like that of a dying dog.

Why was this so hard?

Speaking to a crowd of screaming spectators was no problem at all; even under the blinding lights and with sweat dripping off his bangs from a hard day’s work, Fritz could easily spit out colorful words that struck his audience’s heart. And yet—just imagining Vixel in front of him was enough to set his nerves alight more than any customer ever could.

He cleared his throat.

“My heart is yours.”

Better than  _ I love you _ , but this was too cliché for his liking.

Well, it was a start. Fritz paced his room, hands behind his back, deep in thought.

He’d made up his mind a few days ago, after Vixel—pretty, perfect, almost like a ghost—appeared in his dreams again, causing him to bolt from his bed in a cold, but aching, sweat.

Damn the consequences. He couldn’t bottle it up any more.

He’d first met Vixel after they bumped into each other— _ literally— _ in the hallways of the Halidom. Since then, they’d become fast friends. After all, they both worked in the entertainment industry, and there was plenty to talk about in regards to that—the pressure of stardom, the blazing spotlights, frenzied fans, and, amidst it all, dedication to their respective crafts. Not to mention that they both had somewhat violent pasts—a shared secret they could talk about freely, just the two of them.

Fritz was unsure of when he’d developed more intimate feelings, though he remembered when he had realized them. He’d been chatting with Vixel, as usual, sitting in the conductor’s room. Outside, the sun had come out of the clouds, a few stray beams streaming through the window, casting a warm glow on his face. Fritz had watched, fascinated, as Vixel gently laughed at something he had said, and felt a twinge of longing within his chest.

_ Beautiful _ , he’d muttered under his breath—a damning word that had formed in his heart, crawled up his throat and poised itself on his tongue, hot and heavy.

Luckily, Vixel was too busy laughing to notice—otherwise, the man’s precise hearing would’ve picked up what Fritz had whispered, and their friendship might have ended then and there.

Ever since then, Fritz knew he wanted Vixel to himself.

But it was a selfish dream—terribly, terribly selfish.

Vixel was perfect—too perfect. His voice was warm, yet bursting with energy. His icy blue eyes glinted like freshly polished daggers when he spoke. The swell of his chest, the firmness of his posture, his slender fingers, and tempting lips—it was far too much.

Fritz, who was made of the scraps of the streets and the filth of a past life of thieving, didn’t deserve him.

And yet—his feelings burned inside his ribcage, scratching and clawing against his chest cavity like a feral animal trapped in a cage. It was painful—and Fritz was unsure of how much more he could take.

Was it selfish, to express himself this way?

He and Vixel could remain friends for as long as he kept his mouth glued shut. Vixel valued his company  _ as a friend _ ; this he was certain of. But as a lover—Fritz didn’t dare get his hopes up.

Still, it didn’t hurt to practice.

_ Simple, but not too short, _ Fritz thought to himself. More than four words, at least.

He cleared his throat to try again.

“I... _ think... _ I love you.”

Well!  _ Five _ words. An improvement? Not really.

Oh, to be hopelessly in love and tongue-tied beyond belief. Fritz could feel the words in his head jumble together, melting and tangling into an incoherent mess. 

_ Once more _ , Fritz thought, taking a deep breath. He pictured Vixel in front of him, a curious glint in the conductor’s eyes piercing through the many masks he had put on throughout the course of their friendship.

This was a personal confession; he had to say the man’s name, at least. 

“Vixel…” A dramatic pause; another flutter of the heart. “You mean a lot to me. I always look forward to our meetings, and I cherish you as a friend...and...if you’d let me...as something more. Because I…”

He swallowed.

“...love you. More than you could ever know.”

A pleasant warmth spread throughout his body, but only briefly. That certainly felt more earnest, but as confessions went, it lacked…

_ Appeal, _ Fritz thought.  _ It lacks appeal. _

With a sigh, he threw himself face-first onto his bed, the blankets crumpling under his weight. This was  _ exhausting _ . He could throw daggers for hours without breaking a sweat, but  _ practice confessions _ were what brought him to his knees. Just great.

Face pushed against the soft give of the mattress, Fritz’s mind raced. 

Perhaps he could fuss about the words later.  _ Where,  _ and  _ when,  _ and  _ how _ would he confess his love to Vixel? Surely, it had to be at a convenient time—he didn’t want anyone interrupting their discussion. Vixel stayed up late, so the middle of the night, maybe? As for the location—there had to be pizzazz, some sort of romantic atmosphere to push the mood. 

He and Vixel, alone in a flower garden, the bright, a full moon hanging above them like a priest overseeing a wedding, the slightest flush on Vixel’s cheeks as he opened his mouth to say—

_ Sorry. _

Because that’s all Fritz could expect from him, if Fritz let his rational mind take over. Beyond the pounding of his heart and the longing trapped within him, Fritz knew that no amount of practice and fantasies would ever help.

Still, Fritz daydreamed. He thought of blue eyes and dark hair, of soft lips and gentle fingers, of how Vixel’s face lit up like a sunbeam when he found a sound he particularly liked. Maybe, just maybe, during the confession, Fritz could shift the tones of his voice to hit all the notes Vixel...nah.

“That’s dumb,” Fritz mumbled into the blankets.

“What’s dumb?”

“The whole love confessing business,” Fritz replied. Then he realized who he was replying to, and his heart all but stopped.

_ Shit. _

Slowly,  _ painfully _ slowly, Fritz wrenched his head from the warm fabric of his bed. Lo and behold, standing by his bed, was the man of the hour himself.

“V...Vix,” Fritz spluttered. 

“I knocked, but you wouldn’t answer,” Vixel said, frank as ever. A small smile, meltingly endearing, graced his lips. 

Hastily, Fritz scrambled to sit upright, suddenly conscious of his dishevelled hair and casual sleep clothes that consisted of an old shirt and shorts, exposing bare legs riddled with scars from days bygone. And his room was a mess, too—an odd dagger here, a stray pair of boxers there. He stared, wide-eyed, at Vixel, just to make sure he was actually there.

“I...was, uh...cleaning my room,” Fritz mumbled. It would explain the clutter, at least.

Vixel raised an eyebrow as he took a seat on Fritz’s bed. It took all of Fritz’s willpower to stifle the sharp intake of breath he would have otherwise taken.

“Were you, now?” Vixel replied.

“W-what does it look like? Circus life doesn’t give me much leeway for personal cleanups, you know.”

“Ah, so you weren’t, say…” He grinned teasingly. “...confessing to a certain conductor?”

Fritz blanked for a long, long second, before his mind kicked into high gear, desperately scrambling for excuses.

Vixel couldn’t know yet. Not this way. Fritz wasn’t—couldn’t—get rejected before executing the grand confession plan he never planned to execute in the first place (and that he hadn’t finished making).

Or maybe it was what he deserved; karma for all those years of thieving.

As Fritz was halfway through thinking up a decent excuse about a really belated April Fool’s day prank, Vixel piped up.

“Fritz—”

“Shit, Vix, I’m just—um—oh, man, now I won’t be able to—”

“Fritz—”

“Listen, just—”

“Fr—”

“Wait. Wait.” Fritz exhaled, drawing his knees together, his heart falling apart at the seams. He couldn’t bear to look up and face the man whose trust he had broken. Instead, he steadily kept his gaze on the wooden floor. “Vixel, I...I’m sorry. I should have...but... _ ugh. _ ”

He put his head in his hands, face flushed hot.

“If you hate me—”

“ _ Fritz. _ ”

Vixel took Fritz’s hands in his, their fingers gently intertwining.

“Fritz, it’s—I don’t—I can’t hate you,” Vixel said, voice soft.

Hope sparked in Fritz’s chest—only briefly. “But you...heard, right?”

“I did—”

“Then you  _ know _ .” Fritz rolled his eyes, weakly trying to pull away. “Look, it’s pretty obvious how this is gonna go, so just get to rejecting me and—”

It was terribly cliché, how Fritz was interrupted, but it didn’t stop him from gasping in surprise. 

Vixel pressed his lips to Fritz’s, their foreheads touching, the space between them hot, heavy and nonexistent.

The moment lasted for an eternity of a second before Vixel pulled away, cheeks dusted with red, leaving the faintest taste of coffee on Fritz’s tongue.

“So...you…” Fritz blinked, hardly believing, a fuzzy, fluttery warmth pulsing through his chest. 

“Let me finish before jumping to conclusions, all right?” Vixel, smirking bashfully, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah,” was all Fritz, stunned, could manage. All that worry—all those sleepless, longing nights—had reached their conclusion in but one swift motion.

“But...yes, I do feel the same way. Unless I misheard?” Drumming his fingers against Fritz’s shoulders, Vixel gently smiled. “Would you mind saying it again, now that I’m here?” 

A brief silence, then an affectionate sigh in beat to the rhythm of Fritz’s heart. His practice was of some use, in the end.

What else was there to say?

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> this had been sitting in my drafts for a few months and i figured, hey, i had to finish this eventually. apologies if it seems rushed,,


End file.
